


Laughter, Love, and Other Products of a Quarantine

by elisethewritingbeast



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pandemic - Freeform, quarantine fic, rated for language, this is what we call processing things through fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisethewritingbeast/pseuds/elisethewritingbeast
Summary: Emma Swan has been roommates with Liam Jones for years, but hates his brother. Okay, so she's met him once and it was a brief encounter, but still. But of course he's visiting for the week when the mandated quarantine happens. And of course Liam just happens to be out of town for the weekend when it does.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 126





	Laughter, Love, and Other Products of a Quarantine

Emma sighed at the knock on her door, pushing herself off the couch to open it. She knew who would be on the other side, and it made her blood boil to think about it. 

“Swan!” The dark haired, broody, eyebrow wiggling man exclaimed as soon as the door was open. 

“Jones,” she managed to grunt, turning to find her place on her comfy couch for her current Netflix binge. She so desperately wanted to ignore him for the entirety of his stay at her apartment.

“Liam is so lucky to have such a charming roommate, love,” 

“His bedroom is the second door on the left,” she said instead of making a snarky comment about his usage of the nickname ‘love.’ 

She really didn’t have any reason to truly  _ hate _ him. In fact, she’d only met Liam’s brother once before, but there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe it was the smirking, or the innuendos. Either way, she wasn’t exactly thrilled when Liam offered him lodging while he was in town for work. And of course Liam just had to have a weekend trip planned for him and his girlfriend. Emma absolutely adored Elsa, she even introduced the two, but she mildly resented her friend for taking her roommate away and leaving her with Killian Fucking Jones. 

He left her alone for an hour or so, probably unpacking and making himself comfortable, and of course she could not care less about what that man was doing. Except when he decided to interrupt her show. 

“Would you like some tea, Swan?” 

Okay, so it was a polite interruption but  _ still _ . This was an important part in her show. “No thanks,” her voice quick and rather icy. 

But then she felt rude, so she tried to make up for it with conversation—he was Liam’s brother, after all, and she didn’t want to cause any unnecessary friction between the brothers. So she reluctantly got up from the couch and moved to lean against the kitchen counter in an attempt to be mildly civil. “So um, I’m surprised your work still has you traveling, you know, with the pandemic and all,” 

He chuckled lightly, and she was glad her snark hadn’t wounded him permanently. “Me too, but it’s all about the money, of course.”

She struggled to recall the conversations Liam and she had about Killian and his life. “What is it you do again?” 

“I’m a strategy consultant for publishing companies along the east coast,” when she couldn’t stop the raising of her eyebrows, he laughed. “What, expecting something more befitting of a scoundrel such as I?”

She rolled her eyes at his drama. “Well, Liam said you enjoyed sailing, maybe I thought you were a pirate,”

“Alas, such a profession is frowned upon by societal norms. Plus, I wouldn’t get benefits with just a ship and a crew.” He took a tea bag from the jar of Liam’s favorite Irish breakfast tea. He paused, “Are you sure you don’t want any, Swan?” He was way too considerate for her liking, but she tried not to let it fuel her bubbling hatred. He would be with them for a little while, and she didn’t want it to be awkward. 

“I’m good, I promise. I will, however, make some hot chocolate.” She went straight for the cinnamon, extracting it from its place in the cupboard before grabbing the mix and her favorite mug. She’d just finished stirring her drink when she was interrupted by her phone ringing. “Hey, Liam,” she greeted.

_ “Emma, where are you right now?”  _ His voice was a little panicked, a little hurried. 

“I’m at home with your brother, why? What’s going on?” 

_ “Turn on the news. Now.”  _ She rushed to change from her Netflix show to the local news channel. 

“Breaking news for the Boston area: we are going into a mandated lockdown. The lockdown begins at midnight tonight, so I hope you have stocked up on all your essentials. There will be limited officials who will be able to deliver supplies upon request, but unfortunately it looks like we will be stuck for at least two weeks. Stay tuned for the latest—”

Emma stopped listening, trying to figure out how the  _ fuck _ she was this unlucky. One more day, and Liam would have been home. But no, of course he couldn’t be. Now she was trapped with his smirk-happy, younger, more annoying (and more attractive, though she wasn’t quite ready to admit that yet) brother. 

_ “Emma?” _ she’d forgotten that she was on the phone. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I just heard,” she was trying very hard to remain calm. “Are you sure we’re not just being pranked right now? Like maybe this is some new reality TV show thing that they’re trying out and they’re trying to convince everyone the world is ending,” she knew it was far-fetched and absolutely ridiculous at this point to hope it wasn’t real, but it was easier to process than her present situation.

_ “I really don’t think that’s it, Emma,”  _ he replied, and the way he said her name reminded her that she needed to relax. 

“You’re right,” she took a deep breath. “I’m fine, look, I’m gonna go figure out how we stand on supplies. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

_ “Call me anytime,”  _ he replied, and she was struck by the fact that she had  _ people _ now, but it was not the time for that brand of breakdown. 

“Looks like we’re stuck together,” Killian joked once she was off the phone, but she could see that the smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a bit of fear behind them, and somehow it made her feel better. 

Her panic was still fresh, and she needed to get away from that room and that man. “I’m gonna...go see how much toilet paper we have left,” and she left as fast as she could without actually running. 

It wasn’t that she was worried about her health. She was fine, and David, Mary Margaret, Ruby, Liam, Elsa, Anna...her family was all in good health. A lot of the world would be okay, and a lot of the world would not be. But that part was surreal, far away. And also out of her control, which wasn’t exactly something that made her jump with joy. What she could control and worry about was her new roommate for the foreseeable future. 

Killian was somehow simultaneously easy and hard to hate. Somehow. His tendency to flirt with anything that breathed and the fact that he could see right through her like he  _ knew  _ her...that made it easy to hate him. But she had also seen, not only in the last twenty minutes or so but also in Liam’s infinite stories of him, that he had that bad boy with a heart of gold thing that just so happened to be her fictional character ‘type.’

It didn’t help that her mind was at war. One side of her, the instinctual, foster kid side, told her to run. Avoid him like the plague. Ironic, really. She wanted to hide in her room for two weeks or a month or however long they’d be stuck in her now-too-small apartment. 

But the other side, the side that came directly as a product of spending years in the company of her friends—no, her  _ family _ —told her to open herself up to him, take advantage of the time she’d have with him and try to really get to know him, to see the man Liam had raved about for years. 

Needless to say, Emma had a headache. 

She spent ten minutes or so just pacing in her room, before deciding to actually check to see how much toilet paper she had in her personal bathroom. Once she’d calmed down enough, she returned to the kitchen, only to find Killian rifling through the pantry. 

“What are you doing?” She hoped it didn’t sound like an accusation, but an innocent inquiry. 

He didn’t seem fazed by it and simply replied, “I’m trying to determine how long we can survive without supplies,” 

“And?” She’d succeeded this time in making her voice much more inquisitive than sharp. 

He moved to face her, done with his assessment of the cabinet. “And, we have plenty of alcohol, a good amount of coffee as well as a few other beverages, and on the food front, I think we’ll be okay for about two weeks.”

“Good, good. I’m sure we’ll be able to get groceries before then,” she said, although there was no way she could be so certain. 

She cleared her throat anxiously, “Look, Jones, I think we should be friends.” 

“Friends?” His stupid eyebrow was doing that thing again. 

“Yes, friends. We’re stuck together, so we might as well make the most of it. I think if either of us would like to retain a single shred of sanity by the end of this, we have to get along.”

“I wasn’t aware that we weren’t already  _ friends _ , Swan,” his gaze made her stomach turn. 

“Oh really? You think I’m just this warm and bubbly to all my close pals?” She joked, then added, “Do you think we can just start over?” 

“Of course, love,” 

She held out her hand, and he took it. “I’m Emma Swan,”

“Killian Jones. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Swan,” he grinned. 

She rolled her eyes once more at his drama. “Now that that’s over with, what should we do now that we have all this time?” 

“Well, I do have one idea…” his voice was so suggestive and seductive it should be a crime. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” she held up a hand as if she could force his train of thought to come to a stop. 

“Come now, Swan, I was going to suggest a movie. I don’t know where your mind went, but my idea was entirely innocent,” he assured her, although the teasing in his voice made her positive of what he’d intended her to think. 

“Ah, yes, a movie. Of course,” she nodded, crossing the room to take her place on the couch. He joined her tentatively, taking Liam’s usual seat on the other end of the sofa. “Any suggestions?” She asked, and he looked thoughtfully for a moment.

“I’m not sure, do you have a genre preference?”

Her lips ticked up a little, “Well, lately I’ve been on a rom-com marathon, but I’m not sure how much you’d enjoy that,”

He feigned offense, “I am always in the mood for a romantic comedy, Swan. I’m insulted that you would assume otherwise,” 

She put her hands up as if in surrender. “Okay, okay, I shouldn’t have assumed. But do you have any ideas?”

“Well, what do you have?” 

After showing him her extensive movie collection that she was extremely proud of, he selected one of her favorites and they settled in. 

What shocked her more than the fact that Killian Jones enjoyed romantic comedies was that he also got rather worked up when the characters did something he didn’t agree with. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her very much, given his tendency for drama in his life, but it was still jarring to have him yell at Jude Law. 

“Come on, mate,” he muttered, exasperated. When she looked at him curiously, he exclaimed, “Well, he’s just letting her go!”

But all was well, of course, because Cameron Diaz decided not to leave, and as always, everyone lived happily ever after. 

Once the credits rolled across the screen, Emma excused herself to go to bed. 

“Sleep well, Swan,” his voice was unusually soft.

“You too, Jones,” she called over her shoulder as she headed towards her room. 

It was annoying how often he crept into her mind as she went through her nightly routine. He was a baffling man, and it was getting harder to hate him. Especially after seeing him call Jack Black ‘blind.’ 

_ “He’s been in love with her since he laid eyes on her, Swan,”  _ he’d said.

She looked forward to seeing more rom-coms with him in the coming weeks, and that kind of freaked her out. She’d never say it out loud. 

Emma woke to the smell of bacon, and it startled her. But as soon as she remembered the night before, one Killian Jones, Mr. Would You Like Any Tea, she really should have known. She didn’t mind in the least, as her usual breakfast was just toast or cereal, or if she was going out, a good bearclaw. 

“Good morning, love,” he greeted, just as cheery as his brother at that time in the morning. 

“Is it a Jones family requirement to be a morning person?” Emma was famously grumpy before 11 o’clock, even more so if she didn’t have a warm beverage in her hand. 

He just laughed, and placed a mug of something in her hand. When she stared at him questioningly, he told her, “some hot chocolate, Swan.” With an eye roll, he turned to flip a pancake. 

She took a sip carefully, mostly because her brain was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She looked down at the drink she was holding. “This has cinnamon in it,” 

“Aye, that’s how you like it, isn’t it?” Although he faced the stovetop, she knew that his eyebrow would be raised.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how you knew that,” 

“You made some for yourself last night, Swan. Remember?” He told her, as if it were the most obvious thing. 

“Oh yeah,” she muttered. He noticed. And remembered. 

At this point, to say that she hated Killian Jones would be an outright lie. This charming, annoying, thoughtful man was making her breakfast and he remembered how she liked a drink she made in front of him one time. 

In fact, if she were a different person, she might even say that she  _ liked _ him. 

“It’s ready, Swan,” he said. 

She watched him as he took two plates to an already set table. She would not let this freak her out, she promised herself. She knew how important it was that they both try to have fun and relax during this extremely confusing and anxiety-inducing time. 

So instead of obeying that voice in her head that was yelling at her to run, Emma took a seat across from Killian at the table and smiled at him. 

After breakfast, they brainstormed activities, then got to work. Although, it was much more like play. 

Emma beat Killian at Wii bowling, but he kicked her butt at tennis. 

“Oh, come on! How are you this good?” She cried after he scored on her yet again. 

“I don’t know, love, I guess I’m just a very skilled man,” he told her with a wink.

They got a little too competitive once they started playing baseball, and they decided it was better to stop playing than to potentially cause permanent damage to any furniture. 

“We could reorganize the kitchen,” Killian suggested.

“Are you kidding? That sounds terrible,” she grumbled.

He chuckled at her childish attitude. “It’ll be fun,”

She wasn’t sure how that worked, but somehow it did. They reorganized the pantry and all the cabinets before she started whining. “This is horrible,” 

“Fine, Swan. What do you suggest we do?”

“I’ve been meaning to change the light bulbs in my bathroom for like six months,” she said.

He rolled his eyes. Maybe she should start counting. “Okay, and after those five minutes?” 

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” 

It did take five minutes, but then she decided to find a new mop on Amazon for the one she’d been thinking about replacing for a year. Killian very harshly judged her shopping methods, claiming that she shouldn’t buy it unless she is able see it and touch it herself, but she reminded him that they couldn’t exactly go out. 

They ended up going back to the Wii, this time playing Wii Sports Resort. He complained that basketball was a stupid game when she won, and then proceeded to kick her ass at swordplay. 

“Swordplay? Really?” 

“Come on, Swan, you yourself called me a pirate,” he teased.

She shook her head, “I did not, I only said I thought you  _ might be  _ a pirate.” 

“Same thing,” 

She sighed, “do you think it’s lunchtime yet?”

He looked at his watch, groaning. “It’s only been an hour and a half,”

“What?” She almost screamed. “How is this even possible? I thought it had been like four,”

“Unfortunately not,” he sighed. “But don’t lose heart, Swan. I’m sure there’s lots more we can do,” he said, and thought for a moment. “Do you have any board games?”

“Oh hell yeah,” she led him to their game closet, and he immediately went for Monopoly. “That’s a dangerous game, Jones,” she warned.

“I’m well aware, Swan.” He met her wild eyes, “And I do so love a challenge.”

“You’re on,” 

They played for three hours, and they were quite equal opponents. Neither let the other hoard all the railroads, and they were good at snatching up the last of a color before the other could have a monopoly. 

But then Killian landed on Park Place. He already had Boardwalk. 

“ _ No _ !” Emma cried, but of course he purchased it, and began piling on the houses. 

It was a long time before Emma landed on either property, but she did. It didn’t damage her bank too much, but she knew she wouldn’t survive a second payment. 

Sure, in a typical game, Park Place and Boardwalk weren’t really the smartest investments. They take up so little space on the board, it’s complete luck to have a player land on it. But because they were both so strategic throughout the earlier game, neither even held a monopoly until Killian got ahold of Park Place. And in a game of just two players, trading wasn’t going to happen. 

She cringed when he added a hotel, and just hoped she wouldn’t have to find out what the rent on that one was. 

A few turns later, she landed on Boardwalk. “Pay up, love,” he was absolutely beaming, and instead of handing over the cash, she just started throwing hotels at his head.

They called it off after that.

“Tell you what, Swan, I’ll think about forgiving you if you help me make lunch,”

She considered it for a moment, but decided it was for the best. “Fine, just don’t make me do anything difficult.”

They just had grilled cheese and tomato soup (unfortunately there were no onion rings on hand), but it was the best damn grilled cheese she’d ever had. She hoped it had more to do with a secret ingredient Killian had somehow added when her back was turned, rather than the person who made it. 

They decided to try to do some work, but it was short lived. Emma studied the information she had on her current skip for a little bit, but there was no further she could go without actually tracking the guy down. 

Killian was also unable to get very much done, because as he discovered shortly after opening his computer, the company he was working with at the moment had temporarily shut down. He couldn’t exactly strategize without a company to work with. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he declared once they both realized there was no work to be done. 

Emma just stared out the window for a few minutes, never before wanting to go out more than in that moment. Wordlessly, she got up, searching in a drawer beneath the TV. 

“Ah ha!” She held up the treasure she’d just located. 

“ _ Fuck _ yes,” Killian jumped to turn the Wii back on. 

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “Just to warn you, I am a pro at Mario Kart.”

“Of course you are, Swan,” he smirked. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a very talented woman, love, and I’d never claim otherwise.” 

“But?”

“But, that’s what you said about Monopoly. And we saw how that turned out...” She smacked him playfully on the arm at the reminder of her painful loss. 

“No, no, no, Jones. I never said I was a pro. If I remember correctly, I only implied that I was good.”

“Fine. We’ll just have to see who the true champion is, won’t we?” 

She  _ was _ good; ‘pro’ wasn’t an easily-earned term for Emma. Killian couldn’t deny that she was extremely skilled. They played for an hour, and Killian had only won twice. He admitted defeat, which was a difficult thing for him to do. 

She bowed at his recognition, secretly very proud of herself at beating him after not playing for like three years. 

Emma left after a little while to take a shower, surprisingly sweaty after Mario Kart. She used her time under the hot water to release her tight muscles in her back and shoulders. She was sure they were a product of her tensing over the remote, absolutely determined not to let him win. 

She tried not to let her mind drift to him as she attempted to relax, but that was proving more and more difficult as she spent time with him. It certainly didn’t help that she was pretty much  _ only _ spending time with him. But that was inevitable. 

She took her time brushing her hair out and getting dressed, trying not to let her newfound sense of calm to slip away. 

She was just considering returning to the living room when a Skype call came through on her computer. 

_ “Emma! How are you? Are you okay there by yourself?”  _ Mary Margaret asked, the worried mom-friend as usual.

“I’m fine, I’m great. And I’m not alone, Liam’s brother is here, remember?” 

She cringed at David’s sudden appearance next to Mary Margaret.  _ “Oh yeah? And how’s that going?”  _ David asked, a hint of something with an edge in his voice. Accusation? She wasn’t sure. 

“It’s great. I promise,” she hoped her words would calm him. It’s a good thing he was married to the mom of the friend group, because he was definitely the dad. “We’ve mostly just been playing Wii. I just _destroyed_ him in Mario Kart,” she told them proudly. 

Mary Margaret laughed, and David added,  _ “Attagirl,”  _ as if she were actually his child. Ridiculous, but it made her smile. 

They chatted for a little while, catching up on all the personal life things they’d been missing the last few days in an attempt to do some social distancing. 

_ “But I guess the party’s canceled now. I hope this is all better by the Fourth of July, or I’m going to be very grumpy,”  _ Mary Margaret nearly pouted, and it made Emma laugh. 

“I’ll let the authorities know that it’s gotta be finished before then, okay?” Emma teased. 

“Swan?” Killian called, knocking on her door. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” She asked as he cracked open the door, just his head peeking in.

“I was wondering what you’d like for dinner, but I can come back later, I can see you’re occupied.” He moved to close the door, but she stopped him.

“No, no, it’s fine.” She gestured for him to come in, and then angled her computer a bit to introduce them. “Guys, this is Killian, Liam’s brother. Jones, this is Mary Margaret and David. They like to think they’re my parents,” she grinned at their objections. 

_ “It’s nice to meet you, Killian,”  _ Mary Margaret said once she was done reprimanding Emma. 

He shifted nervously, and he had this look on his face that she couldn’t quite read. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.” 

He was the pinnacle of manners, and she should’ve seen it coming with the way Liam was. 

_ “I heard that Emma kicked your ass in Mario Kart Wii,”  _ David said, pride dripping from his voice. It made heat rush to her cheeks.

“Aye, that she did. It was a well earned victory,” 

Once again, Emma was surprised at Killian’s words. Although it was more the tone that confused her, the hint of pride that matched David’s. It was rather unexpected. 

Dinner was an interesting affair to say the least. Emma tried to help, really, but she wasn’t one for cooking. Luckily, he’d noticed that from her attempt at assistance when they’d made lunch earlier, so he was prepared. 

“All you have to do is stir,” he told her. 

“Are you sure?”

This made him laugh, and she caught herself watching as his eyes squinted and his head was thrown back in the movement. “I’m positive, Swan.” 

Killian put together the most gourmet spaghetti and meatballs she’d ever seen, and it was fascinating to watch him flit around her kitchen, adding this and that, completely focused and in his element. 

The stirring he’d tasked her with was a homemade sauce, which she thought was a little crazy, considering you could just buy some in a jar at the store. When she mentioned this, he shook his head.

“Sure, you can buy the premade sauce, but why do that when it’s so easy to make your own, plus, it’s so much better,” 

She bit back a laugh at his passion for anything homemade. It was adorable. 

She froze for a split second. The thought had just appeared in her head without warning. She returned to her mechanical stirring, but she remained in her head, trying to find the root of the thought. Did she really think he was adorable? She must have, or else the thought wouldn’t have been so instant. But really, you’d have to be blind to miss the attractiveness in his features, and claiming otherwise was what they called denial. Maybe it wasn’t such an important thought after all.

“It’s ready,” he informed her as he opened the fridge and pulled out an unopened bottle of red wine. 

“Good thing we reorganized the kitchen earlier, or else you wouldn’t know where the corkscrew is,” she grinned. 

“You’re so right, Swan. A wonderful idea on my part,” 

They enjoyed their meal in a comfortable, companionable silence. It was kind of funny, how completely opposite their relationship was from just the night before. She’d dreaded his arrival for hours, and now she was starting to think that perhaps she was trapped with just the right person. 

She was surprised she didn’t choke on her food when the thought popped into her head. She hoped maybe some conversation would distract her from her head. 

“You’re a wonderful cook,” she commented.

“Thank you, love. I learnt the importance of a well cooked meal from my mother,” he told her, fondness in his voice. 

Liam never really talked about their mom, but she knew she’d died when they were young. “That’s what Liam usually says,” 

“Aye, he was lucky enough to learn a lot from her before she passed, and I was lucky enough to have him to teach me when I was older,” he said, his smile much softer than before.

“He’s a good brother,” 

“Aye, too good to have to put up with my shit,” he agreed, but she could hear the hidden meaning in his words. 

“You know, Liam’s spent the last five years or so talking you up. Always telling me how great you are, how proud he is of you...it got pretty annoying after the first few times,” she tried to make it casual enough that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable with her confession. 

His eyes got slightly bluer somehow, and his smile turned into a smirk. “Well, how could he not boast about me?” 

She decided that her mission was successful, and it eased a weight around her heart to see him accept this new information. 

After a second glass of wine, she helped him clean up. He washed, she dried, that was the system, and a good one at that. They made quite the team. 

They chose another rom-com from her collection, and once again Emma enjoyed Killian’s comments, although this time most of his anger was directed towards Justin Long. “Does he really think he’s not completely in love with her? That’s ridiculous,” he huffed. 

She grinned, “I don’t know what to tell you, Jones. Men are blind, I guess,” 

He shook his head. “Not all men are  _ that _ blind, love, I promise.” 

She tried not to think about his words as she climbed into bed. She was exhausted after all that competition and emotional energy. There were so many little things she’d picked up on over the course of the day, it was no wonder she was so good at her job. 

She didn’t hate him, and probably never did. He was far too thoughtful to be real, too considerate. He read her like a goddamn book and she had no idea how to deal with it. She just hoped their understanding of each other would be to her advantage and not cause her harm. 

Over the next few days, the two of them fell into somewhat of a routine. Killian would make breakfast, then they would goof off and play games until lunch. After that, they tried to do something productive, but as the days passed that got a bit harder, especially after they’d deep cleaned the whole house. On day four, they prepared what Emma called ‘niche powerpoint presentations.’ It was a good way to kill an hour or two, especially when Killian created a literal Ted Talk about why Peter Pan is actually the villain. It made Emma laugh so hard her stomach hurt. 

After their productive time, they’d give each other some privacy for whatever they needed or wanted to do. Emma usually just showered and Skyped her friends, although one day she took a nap. 

Then it was dinner, which Killian would make, and then Emma would help him clean up. They finished off their days with a rom-com that usually had Killian annoyed at this character or another. It was funny (and adorable) every time. 

On day five, Liam and Elsa Skyped her, and Emma brought her computer out to sit on the coffee table so they could both talk. 

_ “So Emma, how are you getting along with my little brother. Is he giving you a lot of trouble?”  _ Liam chuckled.

“Younger. Younger brother,” Killian muttered, arms crossing his chest like a four-year-old. 

“No, he’s been feeding me, so that’s good,”

_ “I was a bit worried you might starve with me gone for so long,”  _ Liam teased. 

Killian rolled his eyes. “You know I’m perfectly capable of cooking, Liam,” 

_ “Oh of course, of course,” _ he agreed too quickly. Emma was no expert at sibling relationships, but she was pretty sure that he was implying he was the superior cook. He wasn’t, but she was afraid she was beginning to become biased, so she didn’t trust herself to say it.

_ “Emma, have you been talking to David and Mary Margaret much?”  _ Elsa asked.

“We Skype just about every day. They’re so parent-y,  _ still _ ,” 

“That’s definitely not a word, Swan. ‘Parent-y,’ really, that’s not even creative,” Killian shook his head in feigned disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, but I momentarily blacked out and forgot the word  _ parental _ . Are you happy?”

“Overjoyed.”

_ “At least I don’t have to worry about you two destroying the apartment,”  _ Liam said.

“What are you implying?” Emma raised her eyebrows. 

_ “I figured that by now you would’ve murdered him, Emma, but you’re more tolerant than I thought,”  _ he said. 

“I can’t say I haven’t considered it once or twice,” she ignored his call of ‘hey!’ and added, “but I would’ve been left with the mess, plus it would’ve just been me for two weeks and that doesn’t sound fun,” 

_ “That’s understandable,”  _ Liam nodded seriously. 

_ “We’re so proud of you, Emma,”  _

They ended the call a little while later, and all was well until Elsa called her just after she’d gotten out of the shower. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

_ “I just wanted to talk to you, uh, alone,”  _ Elsa said.

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

_ “No, no, everything’s fine. Sorry, I realize how that sounded. No, I mean...you and Killian seem to be getting along really well,” _

“Oh,” that made her pause. “What makes you say that?” 

_ “I kind of thought you still hated him, but, well, you guys were very much  _ flirting _ while we were on Skype, Emma,”  _

“Oh.” 

She’d gotten so used to his company and their playful banter that she didn’t even realize what had been right in front of her. “ _ Oh _ ,” she repeated once it sunk in. “Well shit,” 

_ “What are you going to do?” _

“I have no idea. I’ll, um, I’ll call you later, okay?”

_ “Emma, are you sure—” _

“Bye, Elsa,” she hung up before she could finish her sentence. 

Over the course of the next few minutes, Emma’s brain became what she liked to refer to as a Shit Tornado. It was just...shit. Flying around, spinning, going one hundred and fifty miles per hour and destroying everything in its path.

She liked him,  _ like  _ liked him. Yes, the official middle school definition. She actually cared about him, and she had no idea how it happened. But did he also care? She should’ve figured that one out days ago, really. The hot chocolate that first morning? It was so obvious. There were so many looks she tried to ignore, on both ends, actually. Many comments she pretended never happened. God, she said that  _ men _ were blind, but holy shit! She might as well donate her eyes, because she clearly hadn’t been using them. 

She wasn’t sure how long she let the Shit Tornado ravage her brain as she sat on the floor of her bathroom, but there was a knock on the door. 

“Swan?” His voice was soft and sweet and  _ fuck _ .

“Go away,” she muttered, absolutely in no state to see him. 

“Love, what’s going on?” 

He was so goddamn nice it made her want to cry. “Nothing,” it was a blatant lie, they both knew it, but she didn’t care. There was silence on the other side of the door, and she wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or disappointed. 

But after a moment, he said, “I have rum,”

She sighed, going against at least half of the cells in her body and reaching up to open the door. 

He was extremely polite and didn’t mention the fact that she was just in a robe, and he moved to sit beside her on the floor. Wordlessly, he unscrewed the cap to his flask and passed it to her. 

She took a few sips and returned it to him. He didn’t pressure her to speak, and at this point that didn’t shock her. He wanted to wait until she was comfortable. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” She asked.

“Of course,” 

“I was a little rude,” she said quietly. “Do you know why?” He just shook his head, letting her continue without interrupting. She smiled. It was a weak one, but it was still a smile. “Something you said really freaked me out,” she looked at him.

His eyes found hers, and she could see that he was searching his memory. 

“You said, ‘try something new, darling. It’s called trust,’” 

“I sounded like a jackass,” he mumbled.

She laughed, “That’s not what freaked me out. What freaked me out was that just before you’d said that, I wanted to trust you. I felt like I could, and I’d known you for like ten minutes. Everyday, when I’m working or whatever I’m doing, I listen to my gut. That day, it was telling me to trust you, to open myself up to you. But I couldn’t risk being wrong, and it was so startling to  _ want _ to trust someone, and I just-I couldn’t handle it. So I pushed you away,” 

“That makes perfect sense, love.” 

She sighed. “But this funny thing has been happening. I don’t want to push you away anymore,”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’d like to not be pushed away,” he told her. “But I also want you to be comfortable, and happy,”

“I know, but I realized today that I am comfortable. So comfortable it scared me,”

“Look, Emma, I know you’ve been hurt before. I know that it takes a lot to earn your trust, and I want you to know that it would be very much worth the effort, for me.” He shifted to face her properly. “I don’t do things part way, Swan. You should know that. If you’re willing to give this a shot, I’m ready to go all in,” 

She stared at him for a moment, as if she were expecting to wake up from a dream or snap out of some sort of hallucination. “I’d like to try to give this a shot,” it was just a whisper, but the effect it had on his whole being was massive. His grin alone created a fire that warmed her heart. 

Emma awoke with that childlike first-day-of-summer hopefulness, ready for all the joy and possibilities that lay in front of her. 

But once she was out of her room and staring at him at the stove, she realized that she had absolutely no idea how she was supposed to act or even feel. She had a new tornado in her brain, but this one was the polar opposite of the Shit Tornado, this was a...Joy Tornado? It was definitely not something she’d experienced before. 

“Swan! I trust you slept well,” he said, handing her a mug. Her favorite mug, as usual, the yellow handmade-looking one that she used everyday, the one he discovered after that first day when she’d mentioned it offhand. Every day after that, that was the mug he would hand her as soon as she stumbled out of her room, hands rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Your breakfast is on the table,” he informed her. He looked almost as excited as she felt, and it was really cute. 

He joined her a minute later, his usual place at the table passed over for the seat beside her. She tried not to let it distract her, but unfortunately the Joy Tornado was picking up speed. 

There was a different ease between them, something that had been a result of their conversation the night before. She caught herself watching him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to just twenty-four hours earlier. 

They made cupcakes for some reason, maybe because they discovered there was absolutely nothing else to do, and Emma couldn’t remember a time when she laughed more. 

“Swan, try this!” He called, handing her a spoon with a bit of the chocolate batter. 

It was heaven, and not just because she hadn’t had cupcake batter in years. When she gave him back the spoon, he tried it himself, and she couldn’t help but watch as the dark batter touched his lips. 

Once he noticed she was staring, his eyebrow did that thing again, although this time the feeling in her chest wasn’t anything related to annoyance. In fact, she found it rather alluring. “See something you like, Swan?”

“Nope, not at all,” she said, a smirk creeping onto her lips. 

“You’re a terrible liar, love,” 

Emma caught herself far too many times thinking things that would make old Emma puke. Although ‘old’ more meant ‘a week ago.’ But she couldn’t find herself to care one bit. 

They were crafting, yes  _ crafting _ , with some random supplies they found hidden away in a box shoved into a corner in one of the many closets. It was pipe cleaners and stickers and children’s glue, but it was entertaining. 

They’d made it a competition, of course. Whoever made the best picture in twenty minutes won, though there was no prize other than bragging rights. So naturally, the entire twenty minutes was spent throwing insults at each other, promising that their picture would be better than the other’s. 

When the buzzer went off, Emma was embarrassingly proud of her creation. It was an extremely abstract landscape that reminded her of one of the places she’d lived as a foster kid. Sure, the forest was made up of pieces of green and blue pipe cleaners, but it was the best damn thing she’d ever made. 

But Killian presented his masterpiece, and she almost lost it. 

It was a swan. Aboard a pirate ship.  _ Damn him _ . 

“I think yours is brilliant, Swan,” he said, pride in his voice. 

She rolled her eyes, “You made a pirate ship, Jones. You win.”

“Well, if you insist. But I do plan on hanging both up on the fridge,” he said, and then actually got up and put them front and center, moving the magnets until they were sturdy. “There. Now, are you hungry?” 

Emma spent their entire dinner trying to figure out how this man was even  _ real _ . He was so considerate, and he always knew just what to say. He remembered all those little details and made her feel important. He never teased her in ways that actually inflicted any damage; it was like he knew which areas to avoid. All of this led her to one conclusion, one that she should have determined a long, long time ago: Killian wasn’t Neal.

In fact, the entire week she’d been pushing away thoughts of comparison before they could take form. When he made her hot chocolate, she’d tried not to remember how Neal could never get any of her orders right. Coffee, Chinese food, whatever, he could never get it right. Killian also never insulted the things she cared about, and took interest in the things she enjoyed. They were making the way through her rom-com collection, after all. Killian wasn’t pushy, he didn’t pry. He didn’t expect things from her that she wasn’t ready to give. It was a lot to process. 

“We’re very pensive this evening, aren’t we?” Killian asked with a small smile. He too had been quiet. 

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” 

“No need to apologize, Swan,” he said, and it reminded her of another reason he wasn’t Neal. Perhaps she should start making a list.

“There’s something I’d like to tell you about,” Emma began once they’d finished eating, “but I think we’re going to need something a little stronger for this conversation,” she picked up her empty wine glass in show. 

Killian nodded, moving immediately to take a bottle out of the cabinet. Rum, of course. 

“Last night, there was something you said,” she told him, watching as he poured the alcohol for them. “You knew I’d been hurt before, and I think you should know about it,”

“You needn’t tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, love,”

Emma sighed, “That’s the thing, I know that I  _ can _ share it with you. And I want to,” he didn’t reply, which she took as a cue to continue. “I met Neal when I was seventeen. I tried to steal a car that he had already stolen,” she laughed, and he raised an eyebrow. “I lived a much different life back then. Anyway, we fell in love, or so I thought, and we were together for a while, stealing what we needed to survive, planning to run away together after we’d had enough money. But Neal wanted to steal something bigger, some expensive watches, and when he got caught, he framed me. I went to jail for his crime,” 

The silence that followed her story was deafening, and she shifted uncomfortably for a moment. “So that’s why I don’t do the whole ‘trust’ thing easily. I didn’t see it coming, and I should have.” 

“Don’t blame yourself for that coward’s decisions, Emma,” his voice was quiet and restrained. 

“I don’t. Or, I try not to. I know now that I was just a pawn, but it took me a long time to figure it out.” 

“Thank you for sharing that with me, love,” he said, adding more alcohol to their glasses. “Well, while the rum is out, perhaps you’d like to hear my own depressing tale,” he joked, although his laugh wasn’t as hearty as she knew it to be. 

“I met my first love, Milah, when I was a young lad. Twenty-three, actually. She was adventurous and a bit older, and I fell deeply in love. I didn’t know she had a husband and a son until almost a year later,”

“Shit,” Emma muttered, and he smiled.

“Aye, my sentiments exactly. But I was positively head over heels—young love and all that—so I stayed with her. We met in secret for a year after my little discovery, although it had really been secret the entire time. And then her husband forced her to move far away, I’m assuming he found out about me, and about six months after that, I’d heard that she had died in a car crash. I’m not sure if she ever truly loved me, or if she just saw me as some sort of rebellious freedom,” he finished. 

“Aren’t we a pair,” she said after a few minutes. 

“Aye, I believe we make quite the team, love,” 

They ignored Emma’s movie collection and just spent the rest of the evening consuming the contents of the bottle on the table, bonding over shared (mostly heartbreaking) experiences. She knew she would regret the last few drinks in the morning, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that Emma now understood how Killian could know her so damn well. 

And she couldn’t bring herself to mind at all. 

As expected, a headache greeted Emma when she got up, and the light peeking in made the pounding against her skull much worse. She groaned as she pushed herself out of her bed, hoping very much that Killian wouldn’t be as chipper as he usually was in the morning. 

A rather familiar green and disgusting-looking drink sat on the counter waiting for her. “Ah, the famous Jones hangover cure,” she mumbled, grabbing it and trying not to think about what she knew it contained. 

“So you’ve heard of it,” Killian’s voice was much more subdued than usual. 

“Yes, Liam has made it for me many times,” she explained, and he nodded thoughtfully. She downed the glass, holding her nose as she did so. “Gross,” she commented, placing the cup on the counter.

“True, but give it half an hour,” he said, turning off the stove. “I made us omelettes this morning,”

“I didn’t expect you to make breakfast...I don’t even think I could stand up for five minutes right now,” 

“What can I say, I’m a creature of habit,” he grinned, handing her a plate full of food and moving towards the table to put down his own. “Besides, I very much enjoy cooking for you, Swan.” 

“Why’s that?” She wondered, crossing the kitchen to place her plate directly beside his. 

She looked up when he didn’t reply right away, just in time to see him reach up to scratch behind his ear, a nervous habit she’d noticed around day three. “Perhaps it’s because that was the first time I actually made you smile, that first morning,” he said quietly. 

She stared at him for a moment, her brain processing his words much slower than its usual rate. 

But then her lips were on his, and she couldn’t even remember actually closing the distance between them. One minute he was three feet away, the next minute, he wasn’t. 

His body froze for just a fraction of a second before he responded, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair. Emma’s fingers played at the hair that rested at the nape of his neck as she stood on her toes just to be closer.

It was passionate and desperate and Emma could spend an eternity there, but before that could happen, Killian took one step to separate them. She looked at him for a moment, brow furrowed in a question.

“As much as I am enjoying this, love, and I am, I think we should stop before we take this elsewhere,”

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. 

“I’m not interested in a one-time thing, Emma. It’s important to me that you know that,” 

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“Of course I want to, believe me, love. I just...I have a history of one night stands, and I don’t want you to think that’s what this is. One night with you would certainly not be enough,”

She blinked for a second. “I don’t want this to be a one night stand, Killian. That would be really difficult to pull off, too, because we’re kind of stuck here, remember?” She joked. 

He chucked. “True, very true.” He scratched behind his ear again, “I wasn’t—I’m not rejecting you, love.”

“I know, and I understand. I also have been known to have a one night stand here or there, and I agree. Maybe jumping right in wouldn’t be the best course of action, here.” 

In response, Killian bent down to place a much more chaste kiss on her lips. 

Emma spent the next few hours reminding herself of his words, convincing herself that he wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t rejecting her. She knew it, it made sense, yet that part of her, that annoying little voice that liked to tell her she wasn’t enough, told her that he didn’t want her. At least, the little voice had been trying to, until Killian’s actions spoke louder. 

They watched a movie instead of being productive, and he very neatly tucked her into his side as soon as they sat down. She couldn’t even pay attention as Ryan Reynolds was being yelled at by Sandra Bullock, because Killian kept tracing the back of her hand with his thumb. 

And then when the movie was over, he pulled her up off the couch, dragging her to the kitchen where he made her a hot chocolate. Killian found casual, normal, everyday reasons to touch her, and she loved it. It was the casual intimacy that she’d never had before, and it made her heart so full that it hurt. 

“David, will you relax? We are  _ not _ going to run out of toilet paper. We’re fine!” Emma tried to convince him. They’d been Skyping for about ten minutes in the living room when Killian came out of his (Liam’s) bedroom. 

_ “I can just order you some. Right now. I’m on the site already,”  _ David said, holding up his phone. 

“We have plenty, right Killian?” She asked, and he came over to sit beside her on the couch. 

“Yes, mate, we’ve got enough to last us three months if need be,” he told him.

_ “I told you, David. You’re so dramatic,”  _ Mary Margaret said, but there was so much love in her voice that it was clearly not an insult. 

“Yeah, you and Killian could start a club,” Emma nudged him playfully. 

Killian just shook his head, grinning at her. She couldn’t help but grin back. 

_ “Emma?” _ Mary Margaret called. 

“Yeah?” 

_ “This might sound crazy, but are you two…is something going on between you two?” _

Emma’s eyes widened, and she looked at Killian, no idea how to reply. He just gave this little encouraging nod, and she sighed. “Fine. You caught us,” 

_ “I knew it!”  _ Mary Margaret exclaimed. 

_ “Okay, what? You just...started dating in the midst of a global catastrophe?”  _ David interjected. 

“It’s not like we planned it!” Emma said indignantly. 

Killian beamed, “No, this was definitely not planned. Although, I couldn’t have picked a better person to be in quarantine with than you, love,” 

Emma ignored Mary Margaret’s loud ‘awe’ and replied, “Damn right. You could say that we make a great quaran _ Team _ ,” 

Killian pretended to be deeply offended by her terrible pun, putting a hand over his chest. “Swan, I daresay that was the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” 

“What are you gonna do? Break up with me?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“I would never,” he said seriously, and it made her heart stop. 

She was glad that she had an indefinite amount of time to figure that one out. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you did, please let me know, as I always like to hear from you. Thanks for reading!


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